They Called Us Extraordinary
by Gamine Madcap
Summary: At the turn of the century, chaos rears its ugly head, and a group of outcasts are thrown together to save the world. In all this madness, what good is a twelve year old girl, with unexplainable abilities of her own?
1. War Comes to Africa

A/N: Hello folks. Thanks to the beauty of NaNoWriMo (also known as National Novel Writing Month), I've finally been able to start a LXG story I've been wanting to do for a good two or three years now.

Yes, I know the idea is cliché. I know that there are countless stories out there that feature an unknown daughter of Allan Quatermain. However, if I ever want to write the original stories that I have in store for this character, I have to lay the background with the movie. Trust me when I say that this character has undergone massive transformation since she was first conceived by the plot bunnies of my mind, and is in no way a Mary-Sue. I hope that is evident as you get to know her.

Also, I must make a disclaimer as to the name. I am aware that Elizabeth Athineu has a story featuring an OC named Abigail Quatermain. We've talked, and the only thing our characters share is a name. In no way are they the same character—which should be clear as soon as you read our respective stories. I had posted a story years ago under the pen name PucktoFaerie18 with a version of my Abigail—but the story never went anywhere. Just so you know, I stole nothing for nobody—Puck and I are one and the same.

And I in no way claim ownership to The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen or its respective characters and canon information. Abigail Quatermain is the only thing I have claim to—and I'm of the belief that characters belong to themselves. No money was made from this, and trust me, you don't want to sue the college senior in debt up to her neck.

That said, enjoy the story!

* * *

It was a dangerous time. The most powerful countries in the world were at each other's throats, ready to be set off at a moment's notice. After only a few decades of uneasy peace, few dared to hope that this would end in anything other than all-out war.

But none of that mattered in Nairboi, Kenya. Here, things were simple. Old hunters remained, waiting to die, having experienced far too much in their lives to return to the rigorous structure of society. Natives lived their simple lives, mostly unobjecting to the submissive role they had been forced into by the British Empire. Life passed quietly in this barren grassland…until the day that Sanderson Reed arrived, searching for Allan Quatermain.

The redhead's arrival was unremarkable enough—it wasn't that unusual for strangers from the mother country to appear every so often. The men in the Britannia Club regarded him as little more than yet another young person seeking out the famous Quatermain, while on search for an adventure of his own. They were all in on Allan's gag, of course. But Nigel was the better storyteller, and it was entertaining to see them fool the young whelps who came abroad from time to time.

Reed had settled across from Nigel, looking incredibly uncomfortable and out of place amidst the stuffed statues. His expression of urgency changed to confusion as the real Allan Quatermain spoke up. "But the question is, do I need the Empire?" he said, turning from the chessboard in front of him. Reed turned his attention to this new man, who was engaged in a game with a young girl who couldn't have been more than twelve. Reed only glanced at her a moment, but when she met his eye contact, he felt as though she was seeing straight through him, and seeing something deeper than just the man before her.

"You're probably too young to know, but the empire is always in some kind of peril," Quatermain said. The young man swallowed his embarrassment and continued with his prepared speech.

"We need you to lead a team of unique men, like yourself, to combat this threat."

Allan sighed, and exchanged a look with the girl, as he moved a bishop and gestured for Reed to move closer. "Regale me."

"There is great unrest. Countries set at each other's throats, baying for blood. The trouble of which I speak could set a match to the whole thing. War."

Silently, the girl matched Quatermain's move with her rook, which he stole with his queen. "With whom, exactly?"

"Everyone. A world war."

Quatermain smirked. "And that notion makes you sweat?"

Reed was shocked by his apparent nonperplexity. "Heavens, man; doesn't it you?"

"This is Africa, dear boy. Sweating is what we do." With that, Allan moved to capture one of the girl's pawns that had crossed his knight's path.

"Where is your sense of patriotism?" Reed challenged. Quatermain immediately stood and raised his drink to the room.

"God save the queen!"

Like windup tin soldiers, the men in the room responded. "God save the queen." A few varying mumbles and nods were given, and after a moment everyone had gone back to doing whatever it was they had been doing before the interruption.

"That's about as patriotic as it gets around here," Quatermain said, having proved his point. Still, Reed was not satisfied.

"But you're Allan Quatermain," Reed stressed. "Stories of your exploits have thrilled English boys for decades."

Allan sighed. This was becoming tedious, and it was taking his attention off of the game as his opponent captured his knight. "That I know, and Nigel has done a grand job of reminding me." His tone softened, and pain passed through his eyes. "But with each past exploit, I've lost friends. White men and black. And much more. I am not the man I once was."

Abigail looked at her father from her place across the table. She hadn't paid much attention to the redheaded stranger at first; people often came looking for her father. They rarely got much more than Nigel's performance, never knowing that the real thing was sitting within earshot. But then the man began talking about something dangerous, and that odd little stirring began in the back of her mind. The feeling that _something_, something big, was coming. More than coming—it was already here, at their doorstep.

"Checkmate," she said softly, capturing the queen Allan had moved to satisfy the knight's previous role. He looked at the board, then sighed in defeat, tipping over his king. Abigail smiled, but the look faded quickly as several new men entered the club. She could feel their sense of purpose, and there was something about the darkness of what they were so focused on that made her uneasy.

Allan caught his name from across the room, and as he peaked over he heard Abigail gasp. She ducked to the floor an instant before the shot was fired, and was moving even as the firefight began. Gunfire erupted on both sides, and Allan dragged poor Mr. Sanderson to cover.

"They're indestructible!" The Englishman cried.

"No, just armor-plated," Allan replied. He glanced around with a tinge of worry. "Abigail?"

"Here," she answered, popping up from her hiding place. He smiled at her as he reloaded his gun.

"Smart girl." He turned to Reed briefly. "Stay here," he ordered, before jumping back into the fray.

Abigail peaked out from behind the couch as her father methodically took out the assassins. They were idiots, really. Even sending four men with automatic rifles after the great Allan Quatermain was a wasted effort. She followed the battle carefully, just to make sure that her father wasn't going to need her assistance, not noticing that Sanderson Reed's attention was sliding between her and the action in the parlor.

Allan had been doing fine on his own, until one of the men pinned him to the wall with three throwing knives. Not an easy feat, throwing three knives at once and barely catching flesh—even Abigail could appreciate the skill in that. So when the assassin pulled a fourth knife and prepared to throw it, aiming for her father's head, she knew what was about to happen. As Allan had nothing handy with which to block the knife, perhaps he would be able to forgive her for breaking the rules this one time. After all, it was only to save his life.

The assassin threw his last knife with excellent precession, and smiled in glee as it followed its course. But his expression changed to one of confusion, as the knife suddenly stopped, the tip barely an inch from Allan's nose. It hovered in midair for a long moment, and Allan glanced over to see Abigail peaked around the couch, a finger pointed at the knife, green eyes narrowed in concentration. The knife whirled around to face the assassin, and the man's eyes widened as his own weapon came back on him, stabbing him in the base of the throat.

Allan pulled himself free of the remaining knifes as the man he'd trapped with the tea cart finally busted loose. He disposed of him quickly—Abigail grimaced, she'd never liked that rhinoceros horn under the flag—and turned to face the room. "Now wasn't there another one of these buggers?" he asked, as Jim beckoned to him from the foyer.

"Mr. Quatermain!" he said, waving out to the window, where the final assassin could be seen fleeing for his life. Allan covered the room quickly in his long strides.

"Bruce, Matilda," he ordered. The bartender already had the elephant gun in his hands, and threw it to the hunter. Allan caught it mid-stride and continued out onto the porch. Abigail scurried from her hiding place to follow, pushing herself up on a strange box that she didn't remember having been under the table to begin with. A strange sensation flew up her arm, but she ignored it as Reed passed her to follow Allan, and she hurried to catch up.

Allan had stopped on the porch, sighting down his gun at the would-be assassin. Reed scoffed at his attempt. "But…he's so far away." Allan sighed, lowering the gun and fishing into his shirt pocket for his glasses. "Yes, I thought so," Reed said in triumph, thinking he had bested the hunter. Abigail glared at him, just barely resisting the urge to kick him in the shins. Allan pulled on his glasses and resighted his gun.

"God, I hate getting older," he muttered, before letting off a shot. Across the field, the assassin fell. A couple of native men went after him, and Allan and Reed started down the steps to meet them.

Abigail started to follow her father, as was her nature, but a tickling in the back of her mind stopped her. The tingling sensation she'd felt from the strange box was returning to her, and she turned to face the club, biting her lip as she thought. After a moment, she went back inside.

Many of the old hunters were huddled around the windows, trying to see what was going on without having to actually go out into the heat. No one paid attention to Abigail as she knelt next to the end table and placed a hand on the top of the box. It was ticking, ever so softly, she realized—and in the commotion of the fight, no one had noticed it. She waited another moment, mentally pushing her mind a little further into the sensation that told her that this box was important. Suddenly, she looked up with a gasp. The image of flames and destruction flashed through her mind, and one thing summed up the seriousness of the situation. _Run_.

Allan turned from the dead man on the ground, frustrated that he'd lost his last chance at finding out who was out to kill him. Reed blathered beside him about knowing of Allan's love for Africa, and the older man realized that his friends were fleeing the club in a mixture of confusion and panic. His daughter's shouts reached him across the plain, and he spotted her small figure behind the old hunters, herding them out like a sheepdog after its flock. She was the only one bolting with a sense of purpose, as though she knew what they were running from—and knowing her as he did, Allan knew that was probably true. He started forward, towards the commotion, and in the next instant froze as the ground shook from the explosion within the Britannia Club.

Abigail whirled around in the heat of the explosion, just far enough from the flames to avoid injury. She was still for a moment, then stumbled back a few steps as others started towards the flames to help. Finally she hurried to her father's side, eager for his steadiness.

Allan stared at the enflamed club and his daughter running to him. The girl stopped just shy of him, and he placed a hand on her head as she stood just in front of him. "It would seem war has arrived," Reed said softly. Allan gave him a glare, annoyed with the implications of his words. He hated being forced into something he didn't want to do. He took a deep breath, then looked down at the girl pressed against him.

"What do you say, Abby-girl? Shall we go save these miscreants from themselves?"

Reed looked at the hunter as though he were mad. What sort of man would consult a child in such a decision? Even a child such as this…

Abigail stared as the only home she'd ever known burned in the dry heat of summer. "Oh yes," she answered softly. "For Africa, if nothing else." Allan nodded and looked at the bureaucrat.

"Very well, Reed. You have your answer."

Reed smiled in his success, a look that made Allan feel somewhat disgusted. The redhead smoothed back his hair and replaced his hat. "Excellent," he said. "Pack for an English summer."


	2. The League

A/N: Welcome to chapter 2! I hope you all enjoyed the first chapter. Don't worry, I'm not going to ramble as I did in chapter 1.

I am going to clarify something that I simply won't be able to _say_ in the story. Abigail is an empath. This means that she feels what people around her feel. She can also sense memories and emotions from the past, often from the environment around her. She is also telekinetic, as you saw in chapter 1. She occasionally gets glimpses of the future, but not very often.

The how's and why's of Abigail's abilities are not going to be addressed in this story, but they will in its sequel. Don't worry, it's not random. I don't believe in doing anything without a reason. Please don't start crying that she's a Mary Sue just because the reasons aren't explained.

I still don't own it. No suing, it's bad karma.

* * *

Abigail rested her head against the cool glass of the carriage window as it rumbled through the London streets. She was fascinated by the huge buildings and sheer size of the city…but on the other hand, the number of people was proving to be difficult to deal with. In one corner of her mind, she felt her father's concern, and a small smile crossed her face.

"I'm fine," she said, in response to his unasked question. "Just having to get acclimated." She was lying, but only a bit. She just had to hope that he didn't catch on to it.

The boat ride to England had been uneventful in and of itself. The novelty of being on a ship for the first time wore thin after the first two days, and Abigail was so restricted in where she could go that the whole thing quickly became boring. She was somewhat relieved when they finally made berth on the Thames…at least until the overwhelming tide of emotions and minds crowded together hurled itself against her relatively weak mental shields. Her 'gifts' as her father had always called them, were now proving to be much more a curse than usual. She could only hope that they wouldn't have to be in the city for long.

As the carriage slid to a stop, Abigail was focusing so hard on ignoring her headache that she didn't realize blood was dripping from her nose 'til Allan pressed a handkerchief into her hand. She gave him a sheepish look, pressing the kerchief to her nose, and waited for the bleeding to stop. At the same time she tried to anchor her mind to her father's strong presence above the noise in her head, which caused the pain to recede back to manageable levels. By the time Sanderson Reed opened their carriage door, she was able to stuff the handkerchief in a pocket of her skirt.

"You made good time getting here," Reed said, holding the umbrella up to fend off the rain.

"Not as good as Phileas Fogg. Around the world in eighty days?" Allan laughed as he turned to help Abigail hop out of the carriage. She pulled her oversized coat tighter around her as they ascended the steps to a large marble building with columns. She'd never seen anything like it.

Once inside, the trio headed off down a dark stairwell that seemed to go on forever. The bricks on the walls seemed to get increasing dank the further they went, and Abigail made a point to try not to touch the walls anymore than she had to. A building this old would have a lot of memory, and the last thing she needed was more stimuli to her mind.

"Where are we going? Australia?" Allan quipped, just a few moments before they came to a pair of large doors with odd symbols on them.

"And here we are, sir," Reed said quietly, with an odd reverence in his voice. Abigail couldn't help but hear both respect and fear in his voice, as though what was the behind the door was like a lion—both beautiful and dangerous. He opened the doors to reveal a dimly lit room lined with books and a long table down the center. The Quatermains entered, Abigail staying close behind her father, reaching her senses out into the room. There was someone there, she could hear them, sitting out in the darkness.

A metallic tapping emitted from the darkness, and Allan bristled slightly. "I don't like theatrics," he said crossly. A shadowed figure at the far end of the room moved, and began turned up the gas lamps that lined the walls.

"After Africa's veldts, London's weather hasn't improved your mood," the figure said.

"Identify yourself," Allan ordered. It was obvious that his patience was wearing thin.

"I'm known by many names, Mr. Quatermain," the man answered, as he came into view. "My underlings call me sir. My superiors call me M."

"M," Allan repeated, clearly not amused. Abigail watched the man, curious. M was a stupid name, in her opinion. And shouldn't a bureaucrat have a real name?

"Just…M." The man went on to blather about some sort of league, which meant nothing to Abigail. She did like the portraits on the wall, and the walls were lined more books than she'd ever seen in one place. Her father was relaxing, so she allowed herself to focus her attention more on the unusual things in the room, running her fingers lightly over the spines of some of the books.

"How very curious," Allan commented.

"The museum is full of the curious," M pointed out, as another man entered the room. "Mr. Quatermain, Captain Nemo."

"I know of…Mr. Quatermain," the turbaned man answered. Abigail turned her attention to the new man, intrigued by the Indian. It would seem her father's fame was truly a thing of wonder.

"And I know of you, Captain. Rumor has it you're a pirate," Allan said. Abigail frowned at her father as the captain bristled.

"Papa," she scolded softly. He looked at her and raised an eyebrow.

"I would prefer a less provocative title," Nemo answered.

"I'm sure you would," Allan quipped. Abigail sighed, just loudly enough to be heard, and turned her attention back to the books.

"Gentlemen, please," M interceded. It was clear that the talk of business was beginning, with talk of wars and nations. Abigail studied the titles along the walls, until another presence caught her attention. She looked over at the metal rack a few feet away. It felt, for all intent, that there was a person standing there. If she wasn't staring at the spot, she would have sworn that there were five people in the room, not four. Abigail moved towards it, hand slightly outstretched. She stopped short, however, when she caught an odd spike in the emotion coming from the mysterious M. He was describing their villain, yet he seemed to be feeling an odd sense of…pride?

"Then it's a race for arms," Allan clarified, as he flipped through the glossier M have given him.

"And millions will perish," Nemo added.

"There's one last chance to avert war. The leaders of Europe are to meet secretly in Venice," M explained. Abigail tuned the men out again, and went to look over her father's shoulder at the file. There was information on the people who were to be a part of their 'league', as M had called it, as well as information on the Fantom, who was apparently behind all of the chaos that had brought them so far from home. It would seem though, that the good captain would have no problem getting them to Venice in the time M had given them.

"One of them is late. Harker, the chemist."

"Oh, chemist, eh? Do we get to blow something up then?" The new voice came from nowhere, and Abigail looked back to the spot where she'd felt a presence earlier. Had she been right, and there really had been a person there?

Allan took off his glasses, squinting in the gas light. "My eyesight must be worse than I thought."

"No, your eyesight's fine," the Cockney voice replied, banging some papers down on the table. This prompted Allan to stand quickly, at alert for possible threat.

"No games, M," he said pointedly. Nemo contained his perplexity, though he was apparently as confused as the rest of them. Only M smiled at his private joke.

"Some time ago, a talented, albeit misguided, man of science discovered the means to become invisible," he explained.

"Yes, I recall the tale. But didn't he die?" Allan questioned.

"Well, he did. But his process didn't," the voice answered. Abigail opened her senses a bit to track the owner of the voice. Now that she knew it was actually a person, it wasn't that difficult. "You see, I stole it, and now here I stand for all to see."

Abigail cocked her head at the invisible man, as her father bristled with disbelief. "This some parlor game, M?"

"Believe it," the voice said, punching Allan in the shoulder. The hunter immediately swung back, knocking something back into the metal rack. "Easy now, Allan." The invisible man moved towards a black coat that had been draped over one of the chairs, and Abigail slid out of his way when she sensed him getting close.

"I'm feeling a bit of a draft in my nether regions. And I must say, it's quite refreshing." Abigail could swear she heard a bit of a wink in his voice, and she giggled at the comment. "Allow me to introduce myself," he added, as he swung on the coat. "Rodney Skinner, gentlemen thief." A handless arm reached into the pocket of the coat and pulled out what appeared to be a jar of face cream. The man Skinner began painting it over his features, and a face started to appear as he worked.

"Now I thought invisibility would be a boon to my work. Well, as you can imagine, it was my undoing. Once you're invisible, it's bloody hard to turn back."

"We finally caught him," M interjected.

"And they'll provide an antidote. Well, that's _if_ I'm a good boy," Skinner said.

"And are you a good boy?" Allan asked. Abigail studied the invisible man, opening her senses to him, and inwardly smiled. Yes…he was a 'good boy', and would be good for their so-called team, in the long run. She could tell.

"Well, I guess you'll find out, won't you?"

The double doors that Allan and Abigail had come through swung open to reveal a beautiful pale woman in black. She looked over the room coolly. "Am I late?" she asked, sounding as though she didn't particularly care if she was.

"A woman's prerogative, Mrs. Harker," M answered. Abigail couldn't help but feel a little offended by that. Just because she was female didn't mean that she was trying to be late. "Gentlemen, Mrs. Wilhelmina Harker." The woman nodded a greeting to the rest of the room.

Allan bristled, and Abigail stiffened a little in response. "Please tell me this is Harker's wife, with a sick note," the hunter gruffed.

Abigail could feel the mild wave a grief emitting from Mrs. Harker, though there was no outward sign on her face. "Sick would be a mild understatement. My husband's been dead for years," she said as she approached them.

"Mina's…acquaintance, with a reluctant League member may prove useful," M expounded. If anything, that only seemed to annoy Allan further.

"I'm waiting to be impressed," he said.

"The fate of the world is at stake. There are still two more members to recruit. The clock hands turn, gentlemen," M said, seeming to hope to prod them into action and head off any further bickering over Mina's involvement. Abigail, however, knew her father, and she had a feeling it would not be so simple.

"Kicking us out already? A moment ago it was sherry and giggles," Skinner said, as he turned to leave.

The group ascended the long flights of stairs in silence, finally exiting back onto the busy streets. A strange white machine sat on the street, and a tall man stood waiting next to it, seemingly unafflicted by the rain.

"What in God's name is that?" Allan exclaimed.

"I call it, an automobile," Nemo answered serenely.

"Yeah, but what _is_ it?" Skinner reiterated.

"The future, gentlemen. The future." Nemo started to walk around the machine. "This is my first mate."

"Call me Ishmael. Please," the man held out a hand to wave them into the backseat of Nemo's automobile as he opened the door for them. Abigail looked in dubiously, wondering how they were all going to fit. But apparently the good captain had already thought of that, as he placed a hand on her shoulder and steered her around to the other side. They ended up with Allan, Mr. Skinner, and Mrs. Harker in the backseat, and Abigail sitting in-between Captain Nemo and Ishmael in the front.

Abigail pulled her knees up slightly to stay out of the way of all of the interesting knobs and buttons on the consol. Ishmael handed the automobile excellently, with the steady hand of a seaman. Abigail was torn between watching him and listening to the terse conversation behind her.

"So…" Skinner started, after they'd ridden in silence for a few minutes. "How did M get you?" Abigail turned her head just enough to see he was asking her father.

"None of your business," the older man gruffed.

"You're a little testy, Mr. Q," Mina said. Abigail resisted the urge to say anything. She could feel her father's apprehension for the situation at hand, and she knew that it had to do in no small part with the fact that he had been forced to bring her along. That, and the confining quarters of the automobile was making him edgy. Pushing him now would do them no favors.

"Mrs. Harker, I doubt you'd measure danger the way I do," her father answered. Now Abigail was tempted to scold him. She was female, wasn't she? So why did he seem to hate this Harker woman for her sex? Besides, she could sense something dangerous lurking beneath the pretty surface of Mina Harker. She might not have much experience with women, but she was fairly certain that there was something altogether extraordinary about Mrs. Harker. Something that shouldn't be pushed any more than her father.

"And I imagine you with quite the library, Mr. Quatermain. All those books you must have read simply by looking at their covers." The last bit was almost hissed, as though Mrs. Harker was having a hard time remaining cordial, even in appearances.

"I've had women along on past exploits, and found them to be, at best, a distraction," Allan responded.

"Do I distract you?" Now Mrs. Harker's tone was a mixture of coyness and amusement. Abigail searched her father for a moment, that thought having not occurred to her. It took a moment to satisfy her fear. No, there was no trace of attraction between her father and the widow Harker. Only annoyance, from what she could tell.

"My dear girl, I've buried two wives, and many lovers. And am in no mood for more of either." Allan's tone was somewhat bitter, and Abigail could feel both his grief and increased annoyance with the subject.

"You can send them my way, if you like," Skinner quipped. Whether he was trying to lighten the mood, or was serious, Abigail couldn't tell.

"Skinner, shut up," Allan ordered, before settling back in his seat. The group lapsed back into silence. Abigail took a deep breath, trying to center herself again. Her father's anger was making it more difficult for her to keep the masses of emotion from the city's populace at bay. She caught Nemo giving her a sidelong look, and she gave him a small smile. Clearly the captain had been paying as much attention to the undertones of the conversation as she was.

They traveled through the dark, rainy streets of London for awhile longer, 'til Abigail could make out the black expanses of the Thames nearby. Finally, they stopped in front of a lonely row of buildings, sagging under the hand of time and neglect.

"Shall I wait, captain?" Ishmael asked, as they piled out of the automobile.

"No, bring my Lady to me," Nemo answered. Ishmael climbed back into the driver's seat after opening the back door for Mina. Nemo extended a hand to Abigail, which made her smile. As Ishmael pulled away, they followed Allan to approach one of the buildings.

"This is a charming spot. Does Jack the Ripper live here?" Skinner asked. Abigail studied the building, and from what she could feel, she decided the invisible man was not far off. Only she feared that the person who resided inside was far worse.


	3. An Immortal and Nemo's Lady

Disclaimer: If I owned it, I wouldn't be so broke. Or bored.

Allan Quatermain knocked on the dark door before him, the heavy sound carrying through the night. A small square eyepiece at head level flicked open, studied Allan for a moment, and closed. In the next moment the door opened, revealing a handsome young man with long dark hair and a goatee. "Good evening," he greeted nonchalantly.

"Mr. Dorian Gray?" Allan asked.

"I am indeed." The man answered, studying their group coolly.

"We came by way of M," Allan explained.

"Ah…M for mystery," Dorian said. "Well, I told him and I'm telling you—I'm not interested."

Nemo and Skinner exchanged glances, and no one seemed to know what to say to that. Fortunately, Mina slid up to the front of Dorian's stoop as though she should have been there from the beginning. "Dorian," she purred. The aristocrat opened the door a little wider, surprise lighting up his features.

"Mina?"

The woman gave him a small smile and crossed the threshold. Dorian stepped back and allowed her in. He made no objection, so the rest of them filed in as well, and followed him silently into the house.

Abigail had disliked the house from the outside. The memories of this part of town were filled with a dankness, as if the river itself had permeated it. But once inside, she had to suspect if a part of that feeling hadn't been simply because of this Dorian Gray residing here. She shivered as she followed her father, the chill of negativity resting heavy around her. She could feel it, like a weight on her chest. Bad things had happened in this house.

As they ascended the stairs, her hand graced against the railing, and a particularly strong memory flooded her mind. Fortunately, she'd been expecting this to happen sooner or later, with all of the pressure of the ancient city's many lifetimes pressing in on her. So she gritted her teeth and focused through it. Her father had chosen that moment to speak, and his voice cut through the screams of the past that echoed in her ears.

"You're missing a picture, Mr. Gray," Allan commented as they passed a noticeably bare place on a wall lined with portraits. The wallpaper underneath showed that there had obviously been a portrait hanging there for some time, but now it was gone.

"And you don't miss a thing, do you, Mr. Quatermain?" Dorian responded.

"Oh, sometimes," Allan chuckled humbly. Finally, Dorian led them into a large, circular room with two levels. Floor-to-ceiling bookcases lined the room, with intermittent spaces between them. Abigail let out a soft gasp as they stepped inside. She had thought that the museum where they met M had had a lot of books. But that was nothing compared to this.

"Scotch anyone?" Skinner asked, removing his hat and making a beeline for the drink cart.

"Please, help yourself," Dorian answered coolly. He seemed unaffected by the expanse of emptiness behind Skinner's face paint. Abigail assumed that the rest must have been rubbed off by his hat and the rain. She turned her attention to the nearest bookshelf and ran a finger lightly over the titles as the adults settled in the center of the room.

"I'm impressed, Mr. Gray. You take Skinner's uniqueness in your stride," Nemo commented as Dorian settled into an armchair.

"Yes, well, I've seen too much in my life to shock easily," Dorian said dismissively. He looked over at Mina, who had perched herself on a seat beside him. "Although, I must say, I was surprised to see you again."

"When our last parting was such sweet sorrow?" Mina answered. Abigail turned to look at her as she realized that there was no love lost between these two. Mina very much despised the role M had forced her into.

"Ah, so you're nothing more than an enticement." Dorian sounded both amused and disappointed at the possibility. "Nevertheless, your presence intrigues me." He gave her a long look, before turning his attention to Allan.

"They say you're indestructible, Quatermain," he said grandly. Abigail snorted softly, far enough away from the others for it to go unnoticed. Her father was as mortal as the rest of them.

"Well, a witch doctor did bless me once. I had saved his village. He said that Africa would never allow me to die," Allan explained.

"But you're not in Africa now," Dorian said, as if pointing out as obvious flaw in the prophecy.

"No," Allan conceded.

Dorian sighed. "Well, as interesting as the company is, I can't say that it's enough to make me reconsider. After all, if M truly considers this endeavor to be such…child's play…" he trailed off, casting a pointed glance at Abigail. The others followed his gaze, and his unspoken question hung in the air. No one had questioned the girl's presence 'til now; though her proximity to Allan obviously made her his. They had that unspoken bond that often exists between parents and children. But other than that, they had no idea about her, or why M would allow her to be here. Or perhaps, more importantly, why Quatermain would bring such a young girl on what was sure to be a very dangerous endeavor.

Allan chuckled lightly. "Oh, Abigail has her uses," he answered, as though that explained everything. Dorian raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

"Oh really," he said, half directing it to Abigail.

Abigail looked to her father, who gave her a subtle nod of permission. She turned fully from the bookcase. "Yes, really," she answered softly. "I see things." Dorian inclined his head in question.

"And what's so special about that?" he sneered. She blinked once, and focused her gaze on him.

"Sometimes they haven't happened yet," Abigail answered. She cocked her head slightly. "And sometimes they happened long ago."

Nemo, Mina, and Skinner exchanged mildly startled glances. Dorian kept his gaze on Abigail.

Abigail studied him a moment before continuing. "I know that you killed a woman on the front stairs of this house," she said. The images that she'd felt in the front of the house came back to her; the woman and Dorian arguing, him pushing her down the stairs in anger. Her startled scream, ending in a sickening crunch of bone. It wasn't the worst thing she'd even seen, but it certainly ranked high on the list.

"Impressive," Dorian said, not appearing bothered by her knowledge. Abigail crossed her arms across her chest. He wanted to see impressive?

She held out a hand, and Dorian's cane whirled free of his grip, crossing the room in a flash. It flew into Abigail's waiting hand, and she seized it firmly from the air. She smiled inwardly at the surprised looks, and walked towards the middle of the room to where Dorian was sitting. With a small smile, she handed the cane back to him, and went to stand beside her father. Allan gave her a look of approval, glad she had gotten the better of the man.

"I confess a curiosity as to what the files say about Mr. Gray. We all of us have traits useful in this endeavor. A hunter, a scientist…even Skinner has stealth," Nemo stated. The invisible thief held up his glass in a toast.

"Cheers," he said, amber liquid running through his see-through body.

"What have you?" Nemo continued, as though Skinner had not spoken.

"I have…experience," Dorian answered coolly.

"Gray and I have met before," Allan said. "At Eton College."

"A lecture, no doubt," Mina said smoothly. "You, the nation's hero. Dorian the eager listening boy."

"Quite the reverse," Allan corrected. "It was Gray visiting Eton…and I was the boy."

Abigail's brow furrowed in confusion, but there was no time to take in this newest piece of information. The presences of several more people flooded her senses, and she stiffened, taking a step back to be closer to her father. Allan glanced down at her, before his own senses were triggered, and he pulled out his revolver. Mina stood and Nemo came to attention. "What is it?" Mina asked.

Gunmen in black came out on the second level, aiming automatic weapons at the League below. Within seconds, the League was surrounded. "Gray?" Allan asked suspiciously, as the man stood.

"They're not mine," he answered, finally sounding mildly interested in what was going on around him.

"They're mine," a gravelly voice said. A man appeared at the top of the spiral staircase that connected the two levels. Abigail recognized him from the picture in the files that M had given her father. This was the mysterious Fantom, the man who had been causing all the trouble.

Allan looked at the masked man coolly. "First meetings usually warrant introductions," he said. The man was slowly making his way down the staircase, each step making a resounding _clunk_ as he descended. He paused at the first curve.

"Of course. I am the Fantom. And you are the League of so-called Extraordinary Gentlemen. Introductions made. Oh, and I'm scarred, Mr. Quatermain, not blind. Drop the gun."

Allan held his arm out about a foot from his body and dropped the Webley revolver with a heavy _thunk_. The Fantom smiled and continued. "Your mission is to stop me. That, of course, I cannot permit. So I give to you special one-time offer." The Fantom held out his arms in a welcoming gesture. "Join me."

"You think we'll help you start a war that will consume the planet?" Nemo asked, offended.

"While you profit from your arms race?" Allan added. Abigail could feel their anger, and understood it. This man had caused them so much trouble-destroyed their home, and already hurt so many people. She was angry at him too.

"I do not deny that fortunes are made in war. Imagine the riches a world war will yield," the Fantom said. It was strange, Abigail realized. There was something oddly…familiar about this man. It felt, for all intents and purposes, that she had met him before.

One last gunman joined the others on the second level. The only thing that set him apart was his gun, and his unique aire. Abigail noticed him, not only because his goal was not to kill them, but because his optimism that they could all get out of this alive. Though her father gave no outward sign, she was in-tuned to him well enough to notice the small spike of attention that showed he too had noticed the new comer.

"He's not wrong," Skinner pointed out.

"Speak for yourself," Dorian rebutted disapprovingly. The Fantom moved closer, locking gazes with Allan. Once he was a few feet away, however, he found that he could move no closer. His gaze dropped to Abigail, who was staring at him intently. She kept her arms at her side, but had turned her palms outward, to better focus her ability. It felt like someone was firmly pressing a hand against his chest. The Fantom's eyes narrowed for a moment, then he refocused on Allan. After a long, tense moment, the masked man kicked the nearby revolver, sending it spinning into the wall.

Allan glanced up at the unknown gunman, who took his cue to strike. He fired at the gunman beside him, sending the room into furious action. Gunmen began firing, and papers flew everywhere. Allan grabbed Abigail, pushing her towards the safety of the bookshelves as he went after his revolver. Nemo did the same with Mina, throwing them both behind a bookcase. Allan grabbed the gun, shooting the assassin between them. Abigail crouched behind the bookcase as her father headed back out into the library, going after the Fantom.

She peaked out around the bookcase in time to see Skinner finish throwing off his overcoat. Dorian had pulled a sword from his cane, and was going after the gunmen on the ground floor, paying no regard to those shooting at him from above. Their mysterious ally gave Allan cover from above as he went after the Fantom. Several of the Fantom's men converged on their hiding place, and Nemo went out to meet them. Soon he was a blur of limbs and metal.

Abigail felt a grip on her shoulder, and look up to see Mina crouched beside her. The woman had moved to be next to her, and Abigail was having a hard time telling if the hand on her shoulder was meant to convey comfort, or to keep her from doing anything stupid. Though as it turned out, the reverse was needed. Dorian approached an assassin across the room, who proceeded to fire multiple shots from his automatic rifle into his chest.

"Dorian!" Mina bounded up, intent on rushing out into the fray, and Abigail had to grab her arm and dig in her heels to keep the woman behind the safety of the bookcase. After a moment though, it was apparent that her concern was unneeded. The aristocrat simply stood there, and within a few strokes had stripped the would-be murderer of his armor and stabbed him through the chest. As he fell, the dying man grabbed Dorian's shirt, ripping it on the way down. When he turned, Abigail could see that there was not even a blemish on his chest. Whatever the man was, he could not have been human.

It was only a few moments later that the action seemed to cease altogether. Bodies littered the library, but Dorian appeared to be unconcerned. Abigail was beginning to think that was his only mood. He disappeared upstairs to change. Allan and their mysterious friend were still gone off into the depths of the house, but the girl extended her senses until she was satisfied that her father was safe, and that the bad men were gone.

Abigail picked up Skinner's coat and handed it to him as they began to return to the library. The invisible man chuckled and put it on with a flourish. "Thanks, 'Gail," he said, tousling her hair. She grinned as he pulled out his face paint and began smearing it over his features. "So, I take it you can see me, then?" he asked, once he had enough of a face to look at her properly. She gave him a sort of half shrug.

"Not really _see_ you, in the proper sense," she said. "Although, considering the circumstances, I think we can both be grateful for that." Skinner grinned and winked at her as he smoothed some paint over the back of his head. "But I can sort of…sense you, I suppose. I can tell where you are, if nothing else." She shrugged again, then held out his hat. "It's a bit hard to explain."

Skinner pulled out his dark pince-nez and placed them on his nose, before running a gloved hand over his greasepainted head. "That's alright, love." He accepted the hat and put it on, as Dorian came back downstairs.

"And I thought I was special," the invisible man said. "You're invulnerable to harm."

"I don't like to boast," Dorian said, as Allan reentered the room. "What happened to Mina?"

Abigail looked around to see that the woman had not rejoined them in the library. "Oh, she's probably hip deep in some sort of trouble," Allan said as he approached his daughter, casually giving her an once-over to make sure she was alright. She gave him a smile and a small nod, going over to him and squeezing his hand in reassurance.

"Don't be such an alarmist, Mr. Q," Mina said, coming out from behind the bookcases. She swept her scarf over one shoulder, and bent to retrieve her hat. "And my hips are none of your business."

In the next moment, one of the Fantom's men was on his feet and behind her, a knife to her throat. He'd either been injured, and just not killed, or had decided that it was safer to drop and play dead. Abigail had not sensed him in the room of hightened emotion and dying men. But now he reeked with the sense of a cornered animal, intent on doing anything possible to get out of his current situation. Everyone tensed, except Mina, it seemed. The sounds of ringing metal and cocking guns filled the air, and movement from the shadows revealed that their mysterious ally had joined them.

"Shoot! Go on," the man challenged. Relunctantly, the men lowered their weapons, realizing that any strike to the man could very well kill Mina as well.

"Abigail?" Allan murmured, casting a side-long glance to the girl. He knew that his daughter could get the knife away from the man safely, but probably would not act unless he told her. Abigail held up a finger, a look of anticipation on her face. The dark thing that she had felt in Mina earlier was back, stronger than ever, as the man spoke again.

"I though as much. That they'd do anything to protect you."

"Now see that's your greatest mistake," Mina said softly. "Thinking that I needed _them_ to protect me."

She whirled on the man with an animalistic growl, turning and attacking his throat, taking him down like a lion on a gazelle. Her hair came loose, and for a moment there was nothing but the sound of slurping and squishing. Dorian and Skinner exchanged a squimish look; Nemo's eyes were wide with shock. "Extraordinary," the Indian murmured.

Abigail watched in a sort of rabid fascination, a grin of amazement playing oer her features. A sick satisfaction of slated hunger wafted off of Mina, overpowering Abigail's own senses for a moment. She felt a small shiver of pleasure run down her spine.

Mina came up like a swimmer for air, smoothing back her hair and whipping out a mirror to help her catch the drops of blood from around her lips. "Boy," the young man who had saved their lives said. "They told me European women had funny ways." He looked at Mina and gestured to a spot on his lip. "You missed a spot."

The woman wiped one last drop from her chin and snapped her mirror shut. "Excuse me," she said, before looking over at the newcomer. "And you are?"

"Special Agent Sawyer," the young man replied. "Of the American Secret Service."

"Then America is aware of the situation," Allan asked.

"If war starts in Europe, how long will it take until it crosses the Atlantic?" Sawyer said, shifting his rifle. "I followed you. I knocked out a straggler, and I took his place."

"Very noble," Dorian sneered. "But this is a private party, and you're not invited."

Abigail glared at the immortal. As if _he_ had any right to say who could come and who could not.

"Actually, Dorian has declined," Mina pointed out. "So we are one shy of a full deck."

"On the contrary," Dorian countered. "The battle was just the spur I needed. That, and the thrill of a friendship renewed." He leaned on his cane and leered at Mina, before turning his gaze back to the agent. "So you're not needed."

Allan studied the spy for a moment, then walked forward to stand in front of him. He reached for the young man's gun, and he handed it over. Allan sighted down the barrel. "Winchester," he observed.

"That's right," Sawyer said. "It's modified. American style."

"American-style shooting too," Allan said.

"You like it…I brought two," the American offered. Allan handed the gun back to him. Abigail thought it odd that there was a sort of grief from the young man at that statement.

"You're in," Allan said with a smile.

"Oh, this is ridiculous," Dorian protested. "How do we even know if we can trust him?"

Allan had walked back over to the others, and looked down at his daughter. "Abigail?"

She looked at him, and understood what he wanted. She walked past him to the agent, and crooked her finger at him. He bent over, looking a little confused. Abigail stared into his eyes, extending her senses into his spirit. After a moment, she gave him a big smile. "Oh, yes," she said softly. "You'll do nicely." She stepped back from him, and he straightened. Abigail turned to her father, still smiling. Allan nodded, and sent Dorian a look. It was clear there was no room for any more protest.

Silently, the League left Dorian's following Nemo's lead toward the pier. "So, what's the next port of call?" Dorian asked.

"Paris," Nemo answered. "Just one more member to recruit."

"Capture is more the word," Allan interjected. "And it will be quite the hunt." Abigail gave her father a small glare, which went unnoticed. She just wished he wouldn't sound so _excited_ about it.

"You make him sound like some sort of animal," Mina said. Allan stopped as they gathered at the dock.

"Oh, speaking thus, Mrs. Harker. Your conduct, a moment ago?" Allan gestured back towards the house. Abigail felt Mina tense at the question, but knew that the question was unavoidable.

"Indeed. We're all aquiver with curiosity," Skinner added. Abigail gave the invisible man a look, and was tempted to pinch him in the arm. There was no reason to be offensive about it.

"Well…" Mina started, staring off at the water. "My husband was Jonathan Harker. Together with a professor named Van Helsing we fought a dangerous evil." She paused, and Abigail felt her gathering the strength for her story. "It had a name. Dracula. He was Transylvanian."

"Oooo…European? One of those radicals the newspaper love to report on?" Skinner prodded. This time Abigail almost did pinch him.

"I don't know, Mr. Skinner," Mina said smoothly. She pulled back the collar of her coat. "Is the vampiric sucking of people's blood radical behavior?"

Skinner looked away, and Abigail could tell that he felt badly for his comments. The others averted their eyes from the scars as well, and Mina swiftly adjusted her collar back into place, having proved her point. Abigail managed to catch her gaze for a moment, and gave the woman a small smile, hoping to convey that she understood, or at least was not bothered by the information.

Something at the waterfront caught Nemo's attention, and he turned and walked to the edge of the dock. "Ah…our transportation is forthcoming," he said.

"A boat?" Sawyer asked.

"It travels on water, if that's what you mean," Nemo said, as the bubbles in the river increased. Suddenly, something large spouted forth from the river, and continued to grow. Nemo turned to face the group. "And beneath it."

They watched in amazement as a gigantic ship emerged from the depths of the Thames. "Whoa," Sawyer said softly, as the white vessel ceased to move.

Abigail squeezed her father's hand in excitement. "She's beautiful," she said softly, eyes wide in amazement. Nemo smiled at her statement, though his back was to them at this point.

"Behold, Nautilus. The Sword of the Ocean," Nemo said proudly, holding his arms out to indicate the ship. One of the side panels opened up, a gangplank descending toward them.

"Next stop, Paris," the captain announced. He led them into the ship, several crewmen stopping to nod or stand at attention as Nemo passed. Abigail kept a tight grip on her father's hand as they walked, wide eyes trying to take in every sight as they walked.

They climbed up a few levels, on a spiral staircase that reminded Abigail of the one in Dorian's library. She tried to pay attention to as much as she could, but the day's exhaustion was settling into her bones, and she leaned a little on her father's arm as they walked. It had been a long day, and it felt like a lifetime ago that she had been on a different ship, preparing to embark into London. The added effort of having to deal with the pressure of the people of London, in addition to being tired from the trip, and having to exert such efforts in Dorian's library, was rapidly catching up with the girl. But she did not realize just how tired she was until Mina turned and looked at her, concerned.

"Are you alright?" the woman asked. The group had paused while Nemo consulted with Ishmael, and all followed the focus of her question. Abigail looked at her a moment, confused, then felt a familiar sticky wetness on her face. She flushed, somewhat embarrassed, and quickly pulled out the kerchief Allan had given her earlier in the carriage. She dabbed her nose, and realized that the vampire lady must have smelled the blood on her.

"Sorry," she muttered, more out of embarrassment than apology. Allan looked down at her, and let out a quiet sigh.

"Come on, you," he said affectionately. "Bed." He placed a guiding hand on her shoulder, and steered her towards the captain. Nemo, fortunately, took the cue without comment, and gestured to a door a few doors down on the right side of the hall. Whether he had planned on housing her first, or if it was luck, Abigail did not know. But as weariness pulled at her eyelids, she realized that she did not care.

Nemo opened the door for them, and as they stepped inside, Abigail was grateful to see her trunk at the foot of the bed. She heard Nemo say something to her father about his room being next door, and let out a quiet, content sigh. She was glad that Allan would be close, just in case. Allan walked over to her and put his hands on her shoulders again, leaning forward a little.

"You get ready for bed. I'll be back in a bit to see you're settled," he said. She looked up at him and nodded, giving him a small smile. He smiled back, straightening.

"Good girl," he said proudly, kissing her forehead, before turning and following Nemo back out of the room. He closed the door behind him, and Abigail let out a deep breath, looking around the room. It was beautiful, in her opinion. She had never seen anything like it. The floor was made of slick wood, with a dark finish. The walls were a pale cream; white, but not so white as to hurt the eyes. Lamps were in strategic intervals on the walls, and there was a small desk next to the bed. A wardrobe was on the wall opposite the bed, while her bed was in the far right hand corner, her oak travel trunk at its foot. She smiled, and went to her trunk to pull out her night gown.

Abigail changed into her nightgown and carefully folded her dress, placing it into her trunk. She pulled out a clean kerchief, and placed it on the desk, which was within arms length of the bed. There was every possibility that she would wake in the night with a nosebleed, and she did not want to have to get up and dig around for a kerchief in the dark. Finally ready for bed, she pulled back the covers of her bed and climbed in.

She did not know how long it would be before her father would come back, but she wanted to try and stay awake until he did. It was custom for Allan to come to tell her good night before they turned in. When she was younger, he would sit and tell her stories of his adventures. That was what she enjoyed the most, hearing his stories in hushed tones in the dim light of her bedroom. Nigil was entertaining to listen to as he duped travelers, but her father had a subtle flair, with his deep voice and detailed descriptions. Sometimes, when Harry was home, he would sit with them, Abigail in his lap or leaning on his arm. He would gently tease and interrupt Allan, making little annotates or reminding Allan of things he had either left out or how he had told the story different another time. After her half-brother's death, Allan had stopped telling his stories. It was something Abigail missed, and here in a new, strange setting, she realized that it would be a great comfort if he would tuck her in the way he used to.

Abigail slid down under the covers, turning and watching the shadows on the wall formed by the lamplight. In the quiet, she could hear a gentle hum coming from deep within the ship. She assumed that it must be from the ship's engines, though it was a very different sound than that made by the steam boat they had taken from Africa. Maybe if she asked the captain or Ishmael tomorrow, they would explain to her how the ship worked.

Her eyes were starting to drift closed, her exhaustion overriding her desire to see her father. Just as she was drifting off, her door opened, the light from the hallway illuminating her father's profile. She lifted her head and blinked as he entered the room and sat on the edge of her bed.

"Hello," she said softly, drowsiness coloring her voice. Allan smiled down at her and brushed some of her hair out of her face.

"Hello," he answered. They sat for a moment, Abigail still snuggled into her pillow. "So," Allan started. "What do you think?"

Abigail turned her head a little so that she had a better view of him. "I think they're good people, for the most part," she answered. "Have to wait and see, of course. I could be wrong."

"Oh, I don't know," Allan said. "But I suppose it couldn't hurt to keep an eye on everyone for a few days."

Abigail nodded, blinking the encroaching sleep from her eyes. She was having a hard time staying awake, so Allan decided to wrap up their visit. They would not have much time together, just the two of them, and he wanted to enjoy it. But he also knew that his daughter was still just a child, even if she acted like an adult most of the time. She had her limitations.

"Are you going to be alright here?" he asked. Abigail crinkled her brow, thinking about what he was asking. She had not thought much about it, since they had boarded the ship. She had been too tired to notice. Now, she let her senses open up a bit, just to get a general impression of the ship.

"It's not nearly so bad as the city," she said. "I should be alright."

Allan smiled. "Good," he replied. He started to rise, then stopped. "Oh, and I seem to have found a stowaway in my belongings." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handmade doll, worn from years of love. Abigail smiled, and reached up to take her old friend. She had had Lissadell for as long as she could remember, and it was one of the few pieces of childhood she still carried with her.

"I thought she should watch over your things for you. For good luck," she answered. Allan stood as she tucked the doll into her blankets.

"Yes, well, perhaps now she should stay with you and your things. Where she belongs," he said. Abigail smiled, and it broke into a yawn. Allan let out a light chuckle.

"Alright, I'm going," he said. He leaned over and kissed her head, and smoothed back her curls. "Goodnight, dear heart."

"Night, Papa," she answered. He pulled up the blanket and smoothed it over, before turning and heading out of the room. He turned down the lamplight as he passed the knob by the door, and left, closing the door with a soft click. Abigail sighed in content, snuggling her doll close and burrowing under the blanket. Sleep overtook her quickly, and she fell into its embrace, grateful to finally be able to rest.

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	4. One Last Member

Okay guys, I know you're out there. I can hear you breathing. Please review—I need to know how I'm doing.

Still own nothing. Meh…

* * *

It was late in the morning by the time Abigail woke up. She stretched, rolling out of bed and dressing quickly, eager to find out what she had missed. Her father and Nemo had mentioned a final member for the League, though from the way Allan had talked, it sounded as though this mysterious person would be coming along even less willingly than Dorian.

Abigail left her room, closing the door behind her with as softly as possible. She looked up and down the hallway, not exactly sure where she should go. The girl realized that she was not even certain of where her father had slept the night before, or where he might be at the moment. Finally, she decided to simply wander about until she found something. If nothing else, it would give her a marvelous excuse to explore the ship.

She ambled down the hallway, smiling at the crewmembers she passed, and decided to follow the path they had been on the previous night before the captain had led them to her room. Abigail figured that the rest of the League were probably housed down the same hall, though she was not quite brave enough to knock on any doors to find out. She turned a corner, and paused, tilting her head to the left, sensing a familiar presence lurking in the corridor.

"Good morning, Mr. Skinner," she greeted, to the seemingly empty hallway. A low chuckle emitted from the place she was looking.

"Nearly afternoon, by this point, poppet," the invisible man answered. "I take it you're feeling better, then?"

"Much, thank you," Abigail said. It was true; after a good night's sleep she almost felt as though the day in the city had not happened. "Have you seen my father about? I'm trying to find him."

"Him and Nemo seemed to be plotting something," Skinner answered. "Probably find them somewhere around the bridge. Keep heading on that way. I expect you'll run into them eventually."

"Thanks," she said. Abigail started to go on her way, then paused, turning back to the invisible man. "Oh, Mr. Skinner? You might aught to put some clothes on. I doubt my father would be pleased with the idea of you wandering around naked."

Skinner barked out a laugh. "I'll keep that in mind, pet." Abigail smiled and shook her head, going off down the hall. Well, she had warned him, if nothing else. It would not be her fault now if he got in trouble.

Abigail turned down a few more corridors, keeping her senses open for her father's familiar presence. Finally, she caught what seemed like powerful frustration, mixed with an oddly familiar sense of amusement. She realized that Mina Harker, was responsible for the frustration, as she heard the woman's low tones from down the hall.

"I simply don't understand why you will not allow me to help, Mr. Quatermain," Mina said, biting off her words as though she was fighting not to turn them into weapons. Abigail moved closer slowly, not wanting to appear to be eavesdropping, but also not wanting to simply barge in on the conversation.

"Your offer is appreciated, Mrs. Harker. However, I think this hunt will be too dangerous for a woman. Even one such as you. Leave it to me, eh?" Allan answered, placing a hand on her arm before turning and walking towards where Abigail was. His face brightened a little at seeing her, and she gave him a cautious smile, peering around him to see Mina storm off in the opposite direction.

"Hello, love," Allan said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Sleep well?"

"Oh yes," Abigail answered. "Just what I needed." She paused, biting her lip, and shot a glance down the hallway as Mina turned the corner, disappearing from sight. "Is everything alright?"

Allan sighed, and rubbed a hand over his head. "Oh, just the woman sticking her nose where it doesn't need to be," he grumbled. Abigail narrowed her eyes at him a little. He always seemed to forget that she would be a woman someday herself. Did that not count for anything? Or did he think that she would suddenly develop all of the negative traits he pinned on women the moment she turned twenty-one?

"What is it she wanted to help with?" Abigail asked. She knew it had something to do with this 'hunt', but she was not sure what sort of hunt they could be talking about if it was going to take place in the great city of Paris.

"Oh, just the capture of our last new friend. Nemo has devised a way to catch the beast. Sawyer and I will head out at dusk to see if we can rope him in. That seems to be when he likes to come out to play," Allan answered. "But if the information M provided is correct, then Mr. Hyde will give us quite a chase. Nothing for a woman to be involved in. Even one with Mrs. Harker's…unique qualities."

"Oh," Abigail said. She looked up at him, a bit concerned. "How long 'til you head out?"

"A few hours, yet. But I need to go over some things with Nemo first. You can occupy yourself for a bit, yeah?"

Abigail nodded. "Good girl," Allan said. "Just don't get underfoot. A ship's still a dangerous place, even one as nice as this. You stay out of the way, understood?"

"Yes, Papa," Abigail sighed. She had heard this lecture more than once since they had left Africa. "I understand."

"Alright," Allan said, patting her shoulder. "Don't worry. I won't leave without seeing you first." With that, he strode off down the hall, leaving Abigail standing there. She sighed, watching him go, before turning and heading off in the opposite direction. Allan had made it clear that she was not to follow him, but he had not ordered her back to her room either. Which meant that she could still explore, so long as she was careful about it.

She went down the way she had seen Mina go. Abigail had to admit that she was curious about the older woman. Growing up around mostly aged hunters and African natives, the only women Abigail had been exposed to most of her life were the colored women of Kenya. She had not thought of her own mother in many years. Six seemed like a very long time ago, and thinking about the dead woman only made her sad. She had learned long ago not to ask her father questions about Elizabeth Quatermain; mostly because it was one of the few topics that turned him truly sorrowful. The only thing he had ever really said about her was that Abigail was her mother's child, as if that explained everything odd about Abigail herself.

At any rate, the idea of being around a woman as strange and proper as Mina Harker was exciting and scary to Abigail. Exciting, because she would have someone to answer any questions she might have. But scary, too, because of much the same reason. That, and Mina did not strike Abigail as the motherly sort.

But despite her disconcertion, Abigail found herself heading off in the direction she had seen Mina go in. She moved along until she came to an open doorway, with the red-headed woman inside. It appeared to be another bedroom, though it was a good deal bigger than Abigail's. Though the girl figured it made sense, as it appeared the older woman had a good deal more luggage than she and her father had packed. But some of that was probably the chemistry equipment that Mina would need. Abigail was not sure what exactly that would entail, but Mina was pulling various flasks and glass tubes out of one of the trunks.

"You shouldn't take him too seriously," Abigail said softly, from the doorway. Mina turned to see the girl standing there. "Papa says things sometimes without really thinking about other people first."

"Yes, well, that doesn't give him the right to pass judgment on whomever he chooses," Mina said, moving to place the tubes on a shelf. She paused, seeming to reconsider the girl. "I certainly hope he's not intending to take you along."

"No," Abigail said with a small smile. "The only reason I'm here at all is because of the assassins who came to Kenya. Otherwise I imagine he would have left me there." She shrugged. "I think he's trying to justify it by telling himself that I can be useful. He normally doesn't ask me to use my…abilities."

Mina's expression turned a bit more sympathetic. "I imagine this has to be a frightening experience for you."

"Not really," Abigail answered. "I would have been more worried if I'd been left behind." She peaked around to catch a glimpse of some of the equipment Mina was unloading. "Is that what you use for your chemistry?"

The woman looked down at her trunk. "Yes, some of it," she answered. She looked back at Abigail for a moment. "What do you know about chemistry?"

Abigail shrugged. "Not much. Papa assigns my studies, and we've never gotten much into sciences. I know that it has to do with the elements, and chemicals. Obviously." She ducked her head a little, blushing. The last thing she wanted was to sound stupid.

"Well, perhaps once we're all settled, I can show you a few things. I might have a book or two you would understand," Mina said. Abigail smiled brightly, her face lighting up in such a way that Mina could not help but smile back. If there was anything Abigail loved, it was the chance to learn something new.

"Thank you, Mrs. Harker," Abigail said. "I aught to let you get back to unpacking." She turned to leave, then stopped. "And you might try Papa again in an hour or two. Maybe point out to him that a woman with your…qualities, could be a real asset in hunting down a creature such as this."

"I just might try that," Mina smiled. Abigail inclined her head at her and left, leaving the woman to her bags. She doubted that her advice would do any good; in fact, it might make things worse between Mina and her father. Allan did not like being challenged, and he _really_ did not like having to repeat himself. If he did not change his mind, he would almost definitely be more upset with the vampire lady than he was before.

The girl wandered about the ship for awhile longer, slowly working her way deeper into its depths. She found a library not far from Mina's room, but managed to refrain from touching any of the books, as tempting as they were. Several looked strange and exotic, and she did not want to upset Captain Nemo by messing with anything that she was not supposed to touch. Of course, by that same logic, Abigail knew that she probably should not be wandering so deep into the ship. But since no one had set any strict boundaries as to where she could and could not go, she figured that the worst that could happen was someone scolding her and telling her to stay upstairs. After all, she did not know where she was not allowed, so they could hardly get mad at her. Besides, she wanted to see how this beautiful ship worked.

As Abigail progressed, the corridors changed, becoming laced with metal instead of wood, and growing narrower and darker. There were more crewmen below, and she received several odd looks as she moved past them. Abigail felt their confusion, and heard questions and mutters in a strange language that she assumed to be Hindi. She just smiled at them, and carefully put her hands in her pockets, so that it was obvious she was not touching anything. A few of the crewmen gave her hesitant smiles, but they still looked confused.

Abigail had descended a couple of levels past the main level when Ishmael appeared before her out of the next juncture. He gave her a stern look, and the girl smiled sheepishly. She sensed no surprise in the first mate, which meant that word of her presence must have spread ahead of her. Ishmael's gaze softened slightly, and he sighed, hands on his hips.

"This is no place for you, little miss," he said. "Best get you back up top." He gestured back in the direction she had come from.

The girl ducked her head in apology. "Sorry, Mr. Ishmael," she said softly. She raised her head enough to meet his eyes. "I just wanted to see how she works."

Ishmael's face softened further, and a small smile crossed his face. If there was anything he could understand, it was an appreciation of his captain's lady. "Alright, then," he said after a moment. "If you're going to be exploring, might as well do it proper. You stay with me, keep out of the way, and your hands to yourself. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," she answered. He nodded, clasping his hands behind his back, and turned to walk off. Abigail smiled, and followed him.

* * *

The loud roars and rumbles shook the lower levels of the Nautilus, alarming crew members and sending tremors all the way up to the main levels. It brought Mina, Skinner and Dorian out of their rooms, and following the noises all the way down to the ice room where their latest League member was being held. They entered the room to see Nemo, Allan, Sawyer and Abigail already there, as well as several crew members, all surrounding a monstrous man in chains who kept attacking the men with spears.

"Stay back, if you value your lives," Allan cautioned, as they entered the room. The brute threw back another crew member, causing the newcomers to dodge back. Skinner slipped on the thin layer of ice coating the floor, falling on his back. Dorian extended a hand to help him up.

"Ow," Skinner griped, once he was back on his feet. He gave Dorian an accusatory look. "You scratched me."

"Better me than him," Dorian quipped back. Abigail looked at him for a moment. There was something strange in him, an odd spike of satisfaction that she could not see a reason for. But the situation at hand did not allow her time to ponder on it. "Well, this is nice," the immortal added, gesturing to the man before them.

The large red-headed man finally began to pace back and forth, seemingly starting to settle down. His unusually large arms swung back and forth as he walked. "Mr. Hyde," Allan called, earning a glare from the creature. "You've done terrible things in England." The hunter gently paced opposite of the man.

"So terrible, that you fled the country. Now, I'm ashamed to say, that Her Majesty's government is willing to offer you amnesty, in return for your services." Allan stopped to face the man head on. "Do you want to go home?"

Hyde stopped as well, drawing himself up to his full height. "Home," he said, with a sort of longing. "Home's where the heart is, that's what they say. And I have been missing London so. Its sorrow is as sweet to me as a rare wine." Some of them exchanged surprised glances. Of all the things they had expected, poetry had not been among them. Abigail cocked her head a little as she studied the strange man. There was longing there, yes…and something else. A deeper sorrow, buried beneath Hyde's brutality. She just could not quite get a handle on what it was she was feeling.

Hyde leaned in, his gaze latching onto Mina. "I'm yours." The vampire lady let out a small "Hmph," and the large man chuckled. His gaze moved to Tom. "Don't be afraid."

"Who says I'm afraid," the American answered, trying to sound brave. Abigail looked at him, a bit sardonically. She had felt his fear the moment she had entered the room. It was no great surprise to her that Hyde could smell it.

"You do!" Hyde roared, throwing a chain from the wall and lurching it at them. Tom and the others moved to avoid it. "You stink of fear!" Now he pulled loose another chain, sending it at them again. This one, however, stopped just shy of Tom's head, freezing extended in midair. Tom looked at it, confused, as did the other members of the League. Even Hyde cocked his head and straightened, pulling on the chain slightly, only to feel a resistance from the other end. It was almost as though an invisible hand had grabbed it and was holding it tight.

His eyes cut to Abigail, and the League followed his gaze, to see the girl standing firm, her hand outstretched, fingers wide and extended toward the chain. Her gaze cut back to Hyde briefly, and she was frowning at him. In the time it took them to understand what had happened, her hand balled into a fist, and she swung her arm violently back towards Hyde, causing the chain to swing back at an impressive speed and hit him in the nose. It hit with as much force as when he had pulled it from the wall, earning her a surprised look from many of the League.

"There's absolutely no cause to be rude, Mr. Hyde," she said shortly, as the man rubbed his nose. He looked at her, then chuckled at this small girl's fearlessness. She was less afraid than several of the grown men in the room, and now he knew why. Allan relaxed, having stiffened at his daughter's interference. He had been afraid that it would only cause to make Hyde more angry, but apparently, it had put her in the brute's good graces.

"Quite the parlor trick," Dorian said. It was unclear as to if he meant Abigail or Hyde, but the large man took it as a compliment.

"You wait to see my next one," Hyde growled, a grimace of pain passing over his face. Abigail gasped, and took a step toward her father, as an unbearable sense of agony rolled off the man. In the next second, he was changing, mutating back to something in painful bursts. All of the League looked shocked at this development, and Abigail clutched the side of her head as she felt the overwhelming anguish, as well as the confusing sense of an interchange of presences before her.

After a few moments, a completely different man stood before them. He was tall and thin, the large chains that had been used to hold Hyde falling off of him, useless. The man gripped his ripped pants, holding them at the waist, panting heavily. "Dr. Jekyll," he introduced, after a moment. "At your service." Allan nodded at him, still in shock himself. Abigail fought to slow her own breathing, taking a deep, slow breath as she pushed back the other man's pain, which was starting to fade. Her father turned to face the others.

"So," he started. "The League is set." There was something of pride on his face, and anticipation.

There was a clicking noise in the corner, and Nemo tore off a strip of paper that had come through the messaging system. "So is the date for the conference," he announced. "We have three days."

"Three days?" Tom said incredulously. He gave a small laugh. "Can this canoe do that?"

Nemo's nostrils flared, and despite his calm demeanor, Abigail could sense his rage at this perceived insult. She knew that Tom did not mean it in a bad way, but in the day she had spent on the ship, it was obvious to her that the captain was very fond of his lady, and did not like anyone to treat her with anything other than the utmost respect. "You underestimate the Nautilus, sir," Nemo answered. "You underestimate her greatly."


	5. Chemistry Lessons

A/N: Greetings, all. I know it's been awhile, but yes, I'm finally updating. Hope you enjoy it.

Be aware that I've tweaked Abigail's description. She doesn't have long braided hair anymore, but short curls. If you want to see a picture, check out my profile. Also, the name of her doll has been changed to Lissadell. If you get the reference, extra points to you.

Also, I highly recommend the LXG RPG "Truth and Shadows". Let me know if you'd like the site.

* * *

The sky was clear and cloudless as the League enjoyed the morning on the deck of the Nautilus. Nemo had said something about needing to charge the solar panels, and they were all anxious for a bit of sunshine. Allan had been cleaning Matilda earlier, and was resighting the gun over one side of the deck. Tom was accompanying him, as seemed to be becoming the norm on this journey. Mina was maintaining her preferred privacy by standing off alone, though Dorian was intent at not letting her enjoy it.

Abigail stayed on the opposite side of the deck, near Skinner and Jekyll, watching the dolphins that had decided to make play with the great ship. For this first time since they had embarked on this trip, she felt completely at ease. The family of dolphins below looked like they were competing to see who could out race the Nautilus. She laughed and leaned a little further over the railing, trying to see just how many dolphins there were.

Allan had been keeping one eye on his daughter, simply out of habit. He started to call to her when he noticed her heels lifting off the deck. But he didn't have to, as the good captain seemed to be taking care of it. Nemo had been walking the deck, hands clasped behind his back. Once he noticed Abigail, he simply placed a firm hand on her shoulder, until her feet were planted back upon the deck. The girl turned and gave Nemo a sheepish smile, and when she turned back to the sea, she made sure to keep her hands fixed on the railing, and her feet flat on the floor.

Assured of his daughter's safety, he turned his attention back to his gun, and the young man beside him. He could already tell that Agent Sawyer was well smitten with the Widow Harker. Internally, he sighed. _This_ was one of the reasons he didn't like women on missions.

"She's out of your league," he muttered. Tom continued to study the woman from across the deck. As Mina headed for the bulkhead door, Tom straightened.

"Fortune rewards the bold," he said, walking over to her.

Abigail looked over her shoulder, curious at the exchange between Mina and Tom. But the dolphins and the sea were far more interesting, as where the men by her side. She giggled as Skinner made faces at her from the other side of Jekyll. When Jekyll looked down at her, confused, she faced the ocean again, struggling to regain a straight face. Nemo headed over to them again, and she straightened, not wanting to look like she was leaning over the railing again.

"The solar panels are fully charged. We'll be diving in a moment," the captain said. He gestured toward the door, which Sawyer was now holding open, a mildly confused and disappointed look on his face. Abigail followed the others inside, frowning slightly. She didn't like the negative emotions coming off of the agent. But she descended into the ship with the others, more disappointed that they weren't going to have more time above deck.

Not knowing what else to do, Abigail headed in the direction of her room. Her father was going off to confer with Nemo about something, Tom following them like a pup. The girl walked down the hall, pondering checking out the library she'd seen the day before. Ishmael had indicated that it would be fine for her to look around, as long as she was careful to place any books back where she'd found them. He had also warned her that many of the books were in other languages, so she might not be able to understand them.

While she was debating going back to her room or the library, Abigail realized that she had caught up to Mina, who seemed to be trying very hard to ignore Dorian. The aristocrat was following her, trying to either goad her or strike up a genuine conversation. Abigail wasn't sure which. The woman's face brightened when she saw the girl, calling out to her as Abigail paused at her bedroom door.

"Abigail," Mina called. She paused, looking over at the woman, both startled and pleased by the attention. "I thought perhaps you would like to look at the chemistry books I found for you."

Abigail smiled, completely surprised by the woman's offer. Even though she could tell that Mina was probably only offering to get away from Dorian, she was still excited. "Of course," she answered. "I'd love to!"

Mina smiled, and tilted her head in the direction of her room. Abigail took the hint and followed her down the hall. She gave Dorian a small smile as she passed him, shaking off the lingering chill surrounding the man. There was something about him that she still didn't quite trust.

The older woman closed the door behind them, perhaps, Abigail thought, to keep Dorian from wandering in. "Now," Mina said, putting on her glasses. "Let's take a look, shall we?" She turned and pulled a couple of books from one of her trunks, handing one to Abigail and keeping one for herself. Abigail sat on the bed and began flipping through the book, trying to take it all in. After a moment she looked up.

"Mr. Gray's gone now, if you wanted to open the door," she said. Mina looked down at her over her glasses, surprise in her eyes. Nonetheless, she crossed the room and reopened the door. Turning back to the child, she resumed her page turning, finally finding what she wanted.

"Turn to page twenty-six, please," she said. Abigail did as she was told, and looked over the introduction to the chapter. "Now then," Mina said. "States of matter. Let's see what you know, hmm?"

* * *

Abigail left Mina's room a few hours later, the book Mina had loaned her clutched to her chest. She fairly skipped out of the room, delighted at the whole new subject the vampire had introduced to her. Mina had promised to continue their lesson the next day, and had even given her a small assignment to complete. Tilting her head as she approached her room, she slowed and softened her footsteps. Reaching up, she made a grab at the thin air in front of her door, not at all surprised when her fingers made contact with invisible flesh.

Skinner whirled around with a yelp. "Jesus, Gail," he said. "Give a man a heart attack, why don't you?"

The girl settled a stern look on the invisible man. "I'll forgive your attempted intrusion on my privacy this once Mr. Skinner," she said seriously, arms crossed over her book. "In the future I will not be so considerate. And you're smart enough to know that my father would not take kindly to the thought of you sneaking about our rooms."

"Awww…come on, Gail. I can't help myself. Curiosity and all. You should understand that, what with your own wanderings and such." Skinner voice was like one child pleading to another, and Abigail couldn't help but give the thief a small smile.

"Yes, I do understand, Mr. Skinner. But even I respect other people's things. And don't forget about what curiosity did to the cat, while you're wandering about." She moved past him to open her door. "And you might want to kind in mind that I will be able to tell if you've touched my things. Should your curiosity flare up again, hmm?" With that, she closed the door on him.

Abigail paused for a moment inside, resting her back against the door. She felt Skinner clearly on the other side, then after a few moments, his presence faded. With a sigh, she placed the book on her bed, and walked around the room slowly, hand outstretched. After satisfying herself that Skinner had truly not entered the room, she went back to the desk, against the far wall of the cabin.

A search through the few drawers revealed no quill, ink, or paper. The first two weren't a problem; she had a couple of pencils packed in her things. But Mina had asked her to answer a few questions, and her sketching paper was no good for that. Abigail straightened, and left to find her father. She knew that he would be able to help her procure the items she needed.

It only took a moment to find Allan in a study a few rooms down from his cabin. Abigail slid into the darkened room quietly, observing her father at the table. Several papers and charts were spread out before him, and he was scribbling out notes. He tilted his head towards her as she approached, not looking up from his writings. She came up beside him and put her arms around his shoulders, leaning her head against him.

"What are you doing?" she asked, glancing at the various materials around him.

"Trying to get a lead on the Fantom fellow," he answered gruffly. She released him as he leaned forward to grab a blueprint off the table. "What do you think?" he asked, handing it to her. She studied it for a moment, placing it back on the table.

"Sorry," she said. "I'd have to have the ones he'd touched to get any sort of a read off it. Is that Venice?"

"Yes," Allan answered, taking off his glasses. "We're thinking he's going to attack the conference by sea. Nemo's working out the schematics of it. We're trying to figure out how to get ahead of this bugger."

Abigail nodded Tom came through the door. "I found those articles you wanted," he said, holding up a sheaf of papers. Allan nodded as Tom handed them across the table.

"Good man," he said, replacing his glasses. Abigail took it as her signal to leave, but stopped, remembering what she'd come in here for.

"Papa," she said. "Do you have some paper I could use?"

Allan looked up at her, and ruffled around his stacks before giving up. "You'll have to ask Nemo," he said. "But don't bother him if he's busy. What do you need it for, anyhow?"

"Ms. Mina let me borrow a chemistry book. She's giving me a few lessons while we're at sea," Abigail answered. Allan made a little 'hmph' noise under his breath. Abigail gave a little sigh. "It's not as though I have anything else to do. And neither does she, really." She refrained from adding 'because you won't let her.'

Tom looked from father to daughter, and straightened from leaning on one of the chairs. "Well that's great," he said brightly. "Gotta keep up with your education, my aunt Polly always said." Abigail smiled at him, grateful for the support, while Allan pointedly turned his attention back to his papers. "Come on, Abigail," Tom said. "I'll help you find what you need."

The American placed a hand on her shoulder as they left the room, steering her towards the bridge. Abigail couldn't help but feel a little fluttered by the young man—not only was he the closest to her age (though of course still an adult) but she found him to be one of the handsomest men she'd ever seen. And she couldn't help but notice the affect he was having on her father.

"Thank you, Mr. Sawyer," she said sincerely, meaning it for more than just his offer to help her find some paper. For the first time since Harry's death, there wasn't a cloud of sorrow in the back of her father's eyes.

"Awww, now Abigail, there's no need to be all formal. Call me Tom, will ya? Mr. Sawyer makes me feel all old and stuffy."

Abigail laughed and nodded. "Alright then. Tom. Wouldn't want to make you feel stuffy."

"That's better," Tom said. They walked in comfortable silence for a few moments, before Abigail got up the nerve to speak again.

"Tom," she started carefully. "What's America like?"

The agent stood to one side to allow Abigail to pass through a passageway, and didn't answer 'til he was through. "Well, I guess it depends on which part you're talking about. Down in Missouri, where I grew up, we have a great big river, and we'd go rafting, and fishing, and frog-catchin'. It's hot and muggy this time of year, and the kids run around barefoot, 'cept on Sunday. Everything's slow and lazy, least round St. Petersburg." His voice grew soft, and for the soft time, Abigail felt a sharp pang of sorrow from the American. She wasn't sure if it was homesickness or not, but it felt to be deeper than that.

Tom looked down at Abigail, and seeing the thoughtful, sad look on her face, he smiled brightly. "But now, up North, it's all hustle and bustle. New York, Washington D.C.—they're just as flashy as rainy ol' London. Maybe even more so. Better weather, at least." He winked at her as they stopped outside the bridge.

Nemo and Ishmael were leaning over a table, studying maps from the look of things. Nemo looked up at their entrance and stepped towards Tom. Abigail stayed somewhat behind the agent—not that she was afraid of the captain. But it did give her a sense of security.

"Can I help you, Agent Sawyer?" Nemo asked serenely.

"We were just wondering if you had any scarp paper lying around," Tom said. Nemo raised his eyebrows slightly at the 'we', before catching sight of Abigail peeking around the young man. A twitch of a smile crossed his lips.

"I believe I may have something suitable," the captain answered. He walked over to the side counter and opened a drawer, removing a thin sheaf of paper. Crossing the room in the slow, deliberate manner that the Indian had, he handed the paper over to Tom.

"Thanks, Nemo," Tom said cheerfully. He started toward the door, but Abigail hesitated. She looked at Nemo from under her curls.

"Yes…thank you, Captain," she said softly. Nemo smiled at her, a true smile this time, and she shyly smiled back. With that, she turned and ran to catch up with Tom. She had some work of her own to do.


	6. Walls, Borders, and Secret Missions

A/N: Hello everyone. Finally fought my way through this chapter, and hopefully things will move a little more smoothly now. But knowing my luck, probably not.

Disclaimer: I only abuse them and put them back in their boxes. They belong to whoever, other than Abigail. She's mine.

* * *

Abigail closed her borrowed chemistry book, and took one last glance at her work. She smiled to herself—it had been an enjoyable assignment, and she felt she had done well on it. Now she just hoped it would be pleasing to Mina.

As she closed her cabin door, a loud _boom_ came from above deck. Abigail smiled at the sound of Matilda. She had suspected her father would find a way to practice while on board the ship. Book in hand, she started toward Mina's room, only to jump out of the way as Tom came barreling down the corridor.

"He said he wouldn't start without me!" he exclaimed as a second _boom_ sounded. Abigail shook her head at him as he rounded the next corner, and continued on her way to Mina's room.

Once down the corridor, Abigail took a deep breath and knocked on Mina's door. It opened swiftly, to reveal the widow with her hair pulled up and spectacles on. She had an open book in one hand, and she looked at Abigail with a slightly startled expression. Seeing the papers and book in the girl's arms, her expression softened, and she stepped back to let her into the room.

"Very nice," Mina said, studying over Abigail's papers. She walked around the room, back and forth, while Abigail sat in a chair by the desk. "You have an excellent grasp of the basic concepts, considering you've had no formal training. I think that we can…" She was interrupted by a knock on the doorframe. They had left the door open, and now Nemo was standing there, holding a thin, folded piece of paper that seemed to be making a pocket to hold something. Abigail shifted a little in her seat as Mina walked over to him and they spoke quietly for a few moments. She flipped through a few pages of the chemistry book while they spoke, but looked over at them when she realized there was an uncharacteristic worry coming from the captain. Something was going on.

Mina came back into the room, holding the packet Nemo had given her. The captain appeared to have moved on, as Mina came over to where Abigail was sitting.

"What's that?" Abigail asked as Mina began gathering beakers and chemicals.

"A powder that Nemo found on the bridge," Mina answered. "Apparently it had no place there, and he feels it to be a bit suspicious."

"And you're…going to try and figure out what it is?" Abigail guessed. Mina smiled at her as she continued to work.

"Exactly."

"You can do that?" Abigail was amazed. She knew that there was much that could be done with chemicals, but she was still impressed.

"Oh yes. That and more. Once I know what the powder is, I should know what it is used for. Then we'll know if there's anything to worry about." Mina went to get something out of her trunk. Once she had it, she straightened and looked at Abigail. "Would you like to assist me?"

"Of course!" Abigail stood to move her chair as Mina brought the materials over.

They worked easily for over half an hour, Mina giving directions and Abigail fetching what she needed. It was a fascinating experience for Abigail—learning bits of equipment and chemicals, as well as the process itself. Abigail grew more comfortable with the older woman as they worked, and began to ask more questions. Mina appeared to relax as well, and confirmed to Abigail that she had in fact been a school teacher once upon a time, which explained why she was such a natural at teaching. The two were at ease enough that when Dorian came calling at the door, neither tensed as much as they might have otherwise.

"What are you doing?" the aristocrat asked, walking into the open room. Abigail looked over at him while Mina added one last component to the vial.

"Identifying a powder that Nemo found," Mina answered, holding the vial up and examining the reaction. "Magnesium phosphorus," she stated with some surprise. "Photographers use it to make a flash."

Abigail straightened beside the desk. "A camera?" she asked.

"It appears someone wishes to capture this vessel's secrets," Mina said. There was something in Dorian that gave him a feeling of self-satisfaction. Abigail turned to face him, shifting her attention to study him more carefully. There was just something…off, about his entire demeanor. Something she couldn't quite put her finger on.

Dorian met Abigail's gaze, smiling his smug and cocky smile at her. "The grown-ups want to talk," he said. "Why don't you run along and play with your dollies?" Abigail glared at him, and silently handed the notes she'd been taking to Mina. The older woman gave her a gentle smile at her as Abigail turned and left the room, leaving the adults to their conversation.

Abigail started down the hall, fuming over Dorian Gray and his dismissal of her. She'd been there first, hadn't she? And there was nothing urgent that he'd needed to talk to Mina about…it was just him trying to spend time with her. Like he'd been trying to do since they'd come on board, even though she kept refusing him.

Slowing her steps, Abigail took a deep breath and tried to center herself. If she got angry, then it would be harder to keep her abilities under control, and she didn't want that. Sensing a presence behind her, she turned to see Dr. Jekyll lingering near Mina's doorway. Abigail paused, studying the man for a moment. She hadn't closed the door behind her, but she had understood that Dorian had wanted some privacy with Mina. Why was the doctor so interested anyway?

Abigail shook her head and kept walking. It was none of her concern. She decided she would try to find Captain Nemo, or at least Ishmael, so that she could tell them what she and Mina had found. There was no telling how long Mina would be occupied with Dorian.

Hearing voices behind her, Abigail stopped and backed into a corner, mostly hidden behind a wall ornamentation. It sounded like Dr. Jekyll, though she heard no one else. Reaching out a little, she heard a strange sort of echo to his voice and emotions. A second layer, threatening to overpower him. Hyde, she realized. Rage rolled off the man, catching her off-guard, causing her to stagger a little from the weight of it. Then Nemo's powerful tone cut through the noise, chastising the doctor, and forcing Hyde back into his box. Abigail breathed a little easier as Jekyll's emotions became the stronger of the two again, though he was clearly more than a little upset with the captain. She heard rapid footsteps heading towards her, and pressed herself against the wall a little more to stay hidden. Jekyll passed her swiftly, not appearing to notice her presence. She waited a moment after he had passed, then darted out, going back the way she'd come to try and catch the captain.

Running down the corridor, Abigail caught sight of Nemo's blue uniform rounding the next corner. She ran faster, heels clicking on the wood floor. "Captain!" she called, as she rounded the corner. She founded him stopped, looking curiously in her direction as she approached him. Coming to a stop before him, she panted a little as she drew herself up.

"Miss Quatermain," he said slowly.

"Mina and I just finished with the powder you found," she answered. His expression turned from curious to expectant. "Magnesium phosphorous," Abigail added. "Mina says photographers use it to make a flash."

The captain absorbed the information, and she could see his mind working behind his eyes. He started to walk away, but paused and looked at her, giving her a small smile and a quick nod of thanks. Abigail smiled widely back, pleased that she had been able to help. Nemo headed off, and Abigail turned and went back the way she'd come.

* * *

Abigail looked up at the knock on her doorframe. Tom stood there, looking like a little boy come to confess a broken toy. He was holding Matilda, causing Abigail's brow to crinkle in confusion. She sat aside her sketchpad and got off of the bed, walking over to him. As she got closer, she felt the guilt coming from the American.

"Tom?" she asked. "What's wrong?"

The agent shifted his feet a little, standing the elephant gun on its barrel. "I did something stupid," he said. Abigail placed a hand on the doorframe and waited. "My foot got in my mouth with your pap."

"What do you mean?"

Tom sighed. "I said something I shouldn't have said, and I haven't seen him since. Could you put this back in his cabin for me?" He extended the rifle to her. Abigail looked at it for a moment, then back up at him.

"I'm not supposed to handle Matilda," she said simply. Tom gave her a little pout.

"Awww…come on. I'll make sure you don't get caught," Tom said with a smile. Abigail crossed her arms across her chest.

"It's not that," Abigail answered. "She's too heavy for me."

Tom looked at the gun, then back at the girl. Well, he supposed that made sense. At his downcast expression, Abigail sighed and exited her room, closing the door behind her. "Come on," she said, leading the way down the hall. Tom picked up the rifle and followed her down the corridor. She stopped in front o her father's cabin door and turned to face Tom. The agent dragged his feet a little, a dubious expression on his face. He was more than a little hesitant about what Abigail was up to.

Abigail glanced up and down the corridor, reaching out her senses to try and detect her father. He wasn't in his room, and she couldn't feel him approaching…excellent. They should have enough time then.

She tentatively placed her hand on the knob, and twisted it with the expectation of resistance. It yielded with a slight click, and she opened the door, waving Tom inside.

Keeping watch in the corridor, she gestured him further in. "Just set it on the bed," she ordered in a loud whisper. Tom obeyed, handling the rifle with what Abigail though was an appropriate amount of respect. Their mission completed, Tom exited the room quickly, and Abigail shut the door behind him. They both looked around the corridor one last time, like children expecting to be caught with stolen cookies. Finally satisfied that no one had seen their act, they grinned at each other and let out a collective sigh of relief.

* * *

The decadence of the decoration of Nemo's ship was amazing to Abigail. She'd never been around anything so ornate before in her life. She had always loved to draw things, and now she had some truly impressive work to use as models. Sketchpad in hand, she settled onto the floor of one of the corridors, eager to get to work.

She sat there for some time, mostly ignored by the crewmen who passed her. There was a lot of hustle and bustle going on—Abigail supposed that they must be getting close to Venice. That made sense—they were nearing the end of their three day time period before the conference.

Voices down the corridor finally broke her attention, her father's strong tones carrying to her. Abigail looked up as he came down the corridor with Mina, Tom and Dorian trailing behind them. "Nemo says we'll be in Venice in a couple of hours. I want to find Skinner before then. We need to keep him from reaching the Fantom when we land," Allan said.

Abigail looked at them, surprised. They hadn't noticed her just yet. But why did they think that Skinner was working for the Fantom? Sure, he had been wandering around a bit, but she'd sensed no malice in his actions. Gathering her pencils, she stood just as her father seemed to notice her.

"Abigail, good," Allan said. "Have you seen Skinner?"

She clutched her sketchbook to her chest. "No. Why?" she asked tentatively. Though she'd heard what he'd said earlier, she wanted more detail. Or at least for her father to tell her directly.

Allan sighed heavily. "He's been spying for the Fantom. We need to find him before we land. As you can actually see him, I need you to help."

Abigail looked at her father, a serious expression on her face. "What makes you think he's a spy?"

The hunter gave her look that told her he did not want her nonsense right now. "I know you're fond of him, Abby-girl. But we have our reasons. If you're not going to help, then at least stay out of the way." With that, he started to move the group forward. Mina and Tom exchanged a glance, obviously a bit uncomfortable with the situation, but they followed Allan anyway.

"I think you're wrong." Abigail's words caused the group to stop and turn back to look at her. Allan bristled slightly.

"And why is that?" he asked gruffly.

Abigail took a deep breath, steeling herself under his gaze. "He doesn't feel…bad. Malicious. I know he's been acting a bit sneaky, but he doesn't seem to have been intending any harm. I'd have felt it if he was."

Allan sighed again and seemed to just barely refrain from rolling his eyes. "Well excuse me if I do not place a great deal of faith in your abilities in the face of greater evidence. Especially when they've been known to be volatile at best."

The girl's eyes turned a bit darker. "Fine. But you asked for _my_ help, remember. I'm merely telling you what I've felt." Her eyes fell on Dorian, who was studying his fingernails in disinterest.

"Assuming there is a spy on the ship," she said, "I don't think it's Skinner." With that she walked towards them.

"I'll help to find him, but only if you promise to listen to him when he's caught. There could be a perfectly innocent explanation for his actions."

This time Allan did raise his eyes to the heavens, as if at a loss as to what to do with his child. "Fine, fine," he murmured with a nod. Abigail gave him a look before hurrying past the group. She had work to do, and perhaps she'd get lucky and manage to catch Skinner alone before he was sent before the firing squad. She knew better than most that once her father got an idea into his head, it was very difficult to convince him to change it. If he already thought that Skinner was guilty, proving the invisible man's innocence would be a challenge.

* * *

The strangest sensation drew Abigail towards one of the cabins while on her search. A battle of wills, of emotions…it was rather odd to her, but she knew by now that this particular combination could only come from Dr. Jekyll. Before she realized what she was doing, her feet had carried her to his open doorway, where the doctor was pacing nervously across the wooden floor. He was fiddling with his pocket watch, muttering under his breath. Abigail felt a pang of sympathy for the man, well familiar with the sensation of other thoughts encroaching on one's own.

"He's awfully loud sometimes, isn't he," she said softly. Jekyll looked up at her, startled by the sudden appearance of a child by his doorway. His expression softened somewhat as he resumed his movements, slower this time.

"Yes, he…" Jekyll looked back at her, the realization of what she'd said hitting him. "You…you can hear him?"

Abigail gave the doctor a gentle smile. "In a way," she said. "More feel him, I suppose. But I suspected he was giving you trouble."

"Oh," Jekyll said, apparently at a loss for words. Abigail could tell she'd unnerved him a bit. Hands behind her back, she studied him for a moment before stepping into the room.

"You know," she started. "I might be able to help you with him."

"Is that so?" Jekyll asked, smiling at her in the patronizing way adults have when dealing with children. Abigail rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips.

"Yes," she said shortly. She gestured for him to sit down on the bed. Though she was sure he was still patronizing her a bit, he obeyed. A determined expression on her face, she walked over to him.

Abigail stared at him for a moment, reaching out and focusing on him good and hard with her senses. Finally she took a deep breath and let it out in a hurry. "Right then," she said. "Just…try to relax, alright?"

Jekyll looked at her, now, thoroughly confused, as she lifted her hands and placed her fingertips on his temples. She closed her eyes, following instinct and old memories, and after a moment, his closed as well. Abigail reached out into his mind, visualizing the wall between his mind and Hyde's. She could see it easily enough, and she proceeded to build up and strengthen the wall between them, effectively walling Hyde in. It was similar to the mental barriers she had learned to erect between her own mind and the outside world. This only made the brute angry, and she could hear him and feel him beginning to tear it down even as she worked to make it stronger. Her face scrunched up from the concentration and effort. She was pushing it up faster than Hyde could tear it down, but she knew that he would be back to his old strength soon.

When she had finally done all she could, she pulled back, first mentally, then physically as she opened her eyes. "There," she said. "It probably won't hold him back for long, but it might give you peace for a little while at least."

Jekyll opened his eyes and looked at her in amazement. For the first time in a long time, Hyde's roar had receded far enough into his mind that he could focus on something other than the formula…such as this strange girl in front of him.

"I…thank you," he said. "I…I don't know what to say. How on earth did you do that?"

Abigail shrugged and stepped back from him a little. "Luck, mostly. I'm glad it worked." She looked up as she felt the ship moving to a halt. Jekyll stood, and she smiled at him as she headed out of the room.

"Sounds like we've arrived. Best go see what's going on," she said. Jekyll smiled as she left, shaking his head a little as he followed her. He felt a renewed conviction to fight Hyde, made a little more possible thanks to Abigail. Perhaps he could force the brute back after all.


	7. Trouble Comes to Venice

A/N: Sorry for the delay in updates, folks. RPGing has utterly ruined my fanfiction writing. But I'm working to change that.

Disclaimer: If you've seen it before, it's not mine.

* * *

Abigail followed Jekyll and the herd of crewmen up to the dock level. She stayed back with the League as Nemo's men filled the front, ready to emerge onto the Venician docks. Men dressed in diver suits prepared to search for the bomb under the river. Abigail caught the look her father gave her as the ramps lowered onto the bank. He didn't look pleased to see her up there…but he didn't order her away, so she figured that was something.

As they filed out of the ship, the atmosphere was one of barely contained chaos. While the adults were keeping their calm, Abigail could sense the worry and fear boiling under the surface. Nemo gave orders to the divers, and they began to disperse.

"The city's vast. It could be anywhere," Mina said. Looking at the buildings around her, Abigail had to agree. She felt as though she was stuck between two great weights—the frivolity of the Carnival bubbled up within her, making her want to giggle. But the seriousness felt by those around her pushed it down, creating an odd sort of balance within her.

"The Fantom will want to see that his bomb has succeeded," Allan mused. He turned to his daughter, who was standing near Jekyll. "Abigail? Think you could find him?"

A brief look of shock crossed the girl's face. After her father's previous show of distrust in her abilities, she hardly expected him to ask anything else of her.

"I…I can try," she said. She was rather afraid to try—with the number of people in the city, the Fantom would have to be fairly close for her to find him. But there was no way that she was going to not try.

Taking a deep breath, Abigail closed her eyes. Opening her mind, she branched out, allowing all of the presences around her in. Clenching her hands into fists, it was as though she was being pulled out of her skin and pressed into a tiny space all at the same time. She held her breath, and pushed harder. She wanted to do this. Abigail _needed_ to prove to her father that she could do this.

Dr. Jekyll reached out a hand to steady the girl as she staggered a little, the strain of her efforts showing on her face. He glanced over at the hunter, who was watching her with an expectant expression. Part of the doctor wondered why Allan didn't tell Abigail to stop, when it was obvious that the effort was causing the girl pain.

A moment later, Abigail released a breath in a rush, finally opening her eyes. She looked at her father, her face full of disappointment and apology. "Sorry," she said. "I can't. There's just…there's too many people."

Allan sighed, and nodded. It was clear from his expression that this was the result he had expected. "Alright," he said. Turning, he glanced around, as though wondering where to go next. Jekyll patted Abigail's shoulder and gave her a reassuring smile, which she half-heartedly returned. But the disappointment she felt was still evident in her eyes.

"What about Skinner?" Tom asked. Abigail looked over at him and let out her own private sigh of relief. At least they hadn't found him either.

"I'd be alert for his treachery," Dorian advised. Fireworks exploded overhead, causing everyone to jump.

"Bloody Carnival," Allan grumbled. Abigail couldn't help herself—she stared at the sky in wonder. She'd never seen fireworks before. They were some of the most beautiful things she'd ever seen. However, there was almost no time to enjoy them.

Just as Tom was reassuring Mina that they still had time to search, violent tremors made the ground shake. Abigail gasped and stumbled as cracks appeared in the walkway. Everyone struggled to keep their footings as the world momentarily felt as though it was coming apart.

"There must be more than one bomb!"

The adults rapidly descended into arguing. For her part, Abigail barely paid attention to them. Something about trying to stop the destruction…she too distracted by the ever growing panic of the city. She tried to focus on her father, who was one of the only people staying relatively calm. But he was only one quiet voice against the maelstrom. Even as familiar as she was with his presence, it was a challenge.

The roar of Nemo's automobile brought her attention back to what was happening around her. Tom had apparently found a solution to their problem. He backed the car up to the others, and Mina, Dorian and Allan quickly hopped inside.

Abigail ran up to the side of the car, preparing to at least try and join them. Her father gave her a look that very clearly said 'no.' "Papa, please," she begged. "I can help."

Allan sighed and looked at her. "Abigail, no. You stay here with Nemo," he said firmly. He turned his attention elsewhere.

"Jekyll, come on! We'll need Hyde!"

"No," the doctor answered resolutely. Perhaps it was only temporary bravado, granted by Abigail's trial that made Jekyll feel he was in control of his own mind. "Hyde will never use me again."

Dorian smirked at him from the back of the car. "Then what good are you?" he asked, as they pulled away. Abigail tried to sigh away the bad feeling in her chest. It felt as though he'd meant that for her as well. She could not shake the feeling that something bad was about to happen.

* * *

Abigail followed Ishmael, for lack of anything else to do. Rubble was falling all over the riverfront, and several men had been injured already. She had gone inside when Nemo had, but when the captain went up to the crow's nest to watch for Tom, she had followed Ishmael into the depths. But the first mate had shown her lots of things around the ship over the last few days, and didn't seem to object to her following him, as long as she did as she was told. Careful to stay out from underfoot, she eventually hopped up onto a counter to watch the first mate work.

The great ship rattled as debris from the collapsing city hit the hull. Lights and wires fell as the reverberations were felt through the ship. A crewman ran up to plead with Ishmael. "We'll be smashed apart!"

"If Nemo says we stay, we stay!" the first mate said, sending the man back to work. More things fell from the ceiling, and Abigail had to get off the counter to avoid getting hurt. There was a small cubby hole in-between two of the compartments, so she crawled under it and drew her knees up to her chest. Ishmael gave her a grim smile before turning his attention back to the radio. The air was tense, and Ishmael set the settings of the rocket to the frequency of the car. The first mate stood by, hand on the lever, waiting for his command.

"He has overtaken the collapse. Prepare to launch!" Nemo said, over the radio. Ishmael tightened his grip on the lever. Abigail held her breath, and a few moments later, Nemo's voice sounded again. "Launch!"

Ishmael pulled the lever, and the sound of the rocket launching echoed through the corridor. Abigail exhaled, and for a few moments, all was still. The sounds of debris falling on the ship ceased, and the tension in the air broke. Ishmael looked around at the mess on the floor, knowing that it probably extended throughout the ship. Abigail crawled out from her hiding place, careful not to cut herself on the bits of metal on the floor. The first mate gave her a look, hands on his hips. "Alright, little miss," he said. "We'd best get to work."

Ishmael collected a couple of brooms, and handed one to Abigail as they started to clean up the mess that littered the Nautilus. "You take this part. I'll be around the corner. Alright?" Abigail nodded and starting sweeping where he'd told her. She was just glad that someone was letting her help. Ishmael nodded at her, and went back to the control room.

They had been working for a little while when Abigail heard voices from the control room. "Mr. Gray? What happened?"

"Misadventure," Dorian answered. "Have the others returned?"

"You're the first. Hopefully not the last." There were sounds of Ishmael pushing his broom across the floor. "That bastard Skinner. A lot to answer for."

"Skinner? No," Dorian's smooth tones caused Abigail to pause. There was something strange coming from him. Something causing him pleasure. "Me." She jumped as three shots sounded from the other room. Abigail just barely kept herself from crying out, and pressed her back against the wall to keep from being seen. She held her breath as the sounds of the immortal's footsteps faded, meaning that he had gone back up the way he came. Once his presence had faded, she rounded the corner, to see Ishmael clutching his chest and struggling to his feet.

"Mr. Ishmael!" she cried, grabbing his arm.

"We have to warn them," he gasped. "Gray…"

"I know," she said, cutting him off. "I heard." Abigail lifted his arm onto her thin shoulders, trying to support his weight. "Come on. We'll get you to Jekyll; he'll fix you up…" They managed to get to the next corridor, before Ishmael slid, pulling Abigail down with him.

"Okay," she said. "New plan. I'll go get Jekyll. You stay here and rest." She propped him up against the wall, and ran down a few yards to the next corridor.

"Hello." Abigail came up short, gasping at the sight of Dorian Gray before her.

"M…Mr. Gray," she stuttered. "Back already?" She let out a nervous laugh, and the immortal gave her a cold smile. His eyes poignantly traveled downwards, and Abigail realized that Ishmael's blood was on her hands and spotting her dress. She gave a slight gasp as Dorian looked back into her eyes, his smile widening.

"Tsk, tsk, Miss Quatermain. You really shouldn't lie to your elders. Didn't your father teach you any manners?" He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a white cloth. Abigail took a step back, but then decided to make a break for it. Most of the crewmen were above, and if she went back the way she came, and he followed…Dorian would realize that Ishmael was still alive.

Dodging around the immortal, she made it past him at full speed. Dorian's arm shot out, and grabbed her by the hair, pulling her back. Abigail yelped, and his arm wrapped around her, holding her tight as the other hand brought the cloth up to her face. She struggled against him, trying to bring together her focus enough to pull her powers against him. But the cloth had a funny chemical smell to it, and it made her head swim. It was hard to breathe with it pressed up against her face, and it made her limbs feel heavy. She tried to push him off, to force him away, but a strange darkness pulled at her eyelids. Abigail was smart enough to know that there was a drug in the cloth. But as hard as she tried, she couldn't fight its effect. 'I'm sorry, Ishmael,' she thought, as the blackness pulled her into oblivion.

The first mate heard Abigail's shriek, and pulled himself back up. He reached the corridor in time to see Dorian toss Abigail over his shoulder, the girl as limp as a rag doll. The immortal turned down a second junction, and Ishmael pressed forward, heading above deck. It was even more important now that he get help.

As the city of Venice settled from the chaos, the League were slowly converging back upon the docks. Jekyll tended to the wounded, and the others returned from their various adventures. Ishmael could hear some of the commotion as he staggered out to the ramp, but his senses were starting to dull. He poured all of his effort towards his final goal: reaching his captain. Ishmael knew it was too late for him, but he could at least clear Skinner's name and let the League know who their real betrayer was. And with any luck, they would be able to reach Gray before he had a chance to hurt Abigail.

"Captain!" Nemo turned at Ishmael strained call. He rushed forward at the sight of the injured man, as did Jekyll, who managed to catch the first mate as he fell. Nemo knelt by his side, taking in the severity of his old friend's wounds as Ishmael spoke.

"It was Gray," he gasped. "Not Skinner." The League exchanged shocked glances at the revelation. "Gray…" He struggled, before pulling in a last, shuddering breath, and turning his gaze up to Allan, who was hovering behind Nemo. "He has the girl. He…he's tricked us all." With that, his breath left him with a groan, and the man was gone.

Allan paled, and staggered back, realizing that he had not questioned Abigail's absence from the riverfront. She should have been up there, in the thick of everything…"Abigail," he murmured, shocked eyes looking up at the ship. He needed to move, yet somehow he remained rooted to the spot, until a series of loud clanking sounds broke him from his trance.

"What is it?" he asked. Nemo's gaze went from mournful to furious as he stood.

"The sound of treachery!" he growled, moving into the ship. The others followed him, through the deck to a ramp that was lowering on the opposite side of the ship. They didn't pause as it lowered at enough of an angle to walk on, and followed Nemo out, in time to see a large compartment detaching itself from the ship.

"What is that thing?"

"My exploration pod," Nemo answered. Curved spikes extended from the pod, like the arms of a squid, and it dropped into the water. It crept towards them for a moment, then a window opened in the side, revealing Dorian behind the wheel. He blew a kiss at them, before steering the pod away from the Nautilus.

"You can track it?" Allan asked. He fought the urge to leap into the river or fire off shots at the machine. His mind was still struggling to catch up with the fact that his daughter was on board that thing, with the man who had betrayed them.

"I intend to catch it!" Nemo answered furiously.


End file.
